"Shit!" I muttered, walking into the apartment and smelling what was
obviously rotting garbage. I dropped my backpack full of work and my purse on
the dining table, and moved to pull the offending and overflowing bag from the
plastic wastebasket. I pulled the drawstring and set the bag in the
linoleum-floored hallway to be taken out. I pulled a new bag from beneath the
sink, and shook it out angrily. I put the new bag into the garbage can and set
the can back into place. I blew out an annoyed breath, hearing His key in the
I opened the refrigerator and took out the thawed chicken thighs. I
dropped them onto the kitchen counter with a thud, hearing "Hi, honey.
I'm home!" as He walked through the door.
"Hi," I replied, half-heartedly, taking the kiss He placed on
my lips. I took His lunch bag and His jacket from Him and began the nightly
rituals. I arranged His jacket on a dining room chair so that He would not
forget to take it the next morning. I fished out the garbage from His lunch
bag and made to put the dirty Tupperware into the dishwasher. 'Dammit!' I
thought as I realized the dishes in the machine were clean. It had not been
I heard the distinct sound of the electronic handshake between our home
PC and the Internet and let out another annoyed breath. 'One ... two ... three
...' I began to mentally count, hoping this would calm me down and release the
anger that was slowly beginning to boil. It was not working. 'God, I want a
cigarette!' I thought. I was 10 days into being smoke-free, and was having
trouble with the psychological withdrawal. I wore the nicotine patches to
abolish the cravings, but the habit was still firmly entrenched.
I opened the dishwasher again and began to empty it. I was not at all
happy about doing it! This was HIS job! The rule was, "You cook, I
clean" regardless of who had done the cooking. I had done the cooking the
night before, and had amicably tidied up the kitchen, knowing that His side
job had left Him exhausted. After working a straight eight at His regular job,
He had gone to the home of a friend to finish the electrical wiring in her new
kitchen. He had spent a good four hours there. A twelve-hour day was enough
for anyone, and at the time I had not minded taking care of the dishes.
However, it was an unwritten rule that whoever left last in the morning would
either run the dishwasher or empty it. As I had an early meeting to take
minutes for, He had been last that morning. Yet, here I was, emptying the
I was obviously making too much noise with the chore, as His next words
made me realize.
"Something on your mind, baby?" He asked. He asked this
question when I started throwing attitude and making my dissatisfaction known
through little actions like banging pots and pans. He had come up behind me,
and was snaking His arms around my waist as I sorted silverware.
"It's just been a long day," I sighed, continuing with my
chore. He kissed the back of my neck, and as He pulled away, swatted my
"Ow!" I responded softly, making Him chuckle.
"I figured as much with the noise you're making. Sorry about the
garbage. I'll take it out after dinner," He said, eliciting another heavy
sigh from me. He was also searching for the real reason behind my attitude. He
knew that there was something else going on and He would continue to play the
guessing game until I was ready to 'fess up. He went back to the PC and began
to go through His e-mail. I blew out a breath, and reached into the pantry for
my apron. Now that the dishes were cleaned up, I went about making another
mess fixing dinner.
I turned on the boom box in the kitchen and tuned it into rock and roll.
I was not in the mood for anything else as the anger and annoyance continued
to push my buttons. I pulled out the electric frying pan and set it up,
covering the bottom with oil and setting up the breadcrumbs and seasonings for
fried chicken. I set another pot filled with hot water on the stove and lit
the burner beneath it.
"Hey, baby! C'mere and look at this!" He called out, obviously
referring to something He had received via email. I sighed yet again, putting
aside the red potatoes I had been chopping, and moving into the living room to
look at whatever it was.
"Hmm," I commented, leaning over a bit to look at the PC
screen. A graphic photograph of a woman in a compromising position filled the
monitor screen. So what? I thought. "Interesting."
"EddieJ, of course," He said, letting me know His cousin Jerry
had sent the photo.
"Of course," I replied straightening up to move back into the
kitchen. He reached out and pulled me between His legs. I knelt so as not to
be above Him, and looked up questioningly. He extended one leg over my
shoulder, and said,
"Please." I knew He was asking that I assist Him in getting
undressed, beginning with His work boots. I reached out and untied the boots,
and tugged them off. I removed his socks as well, and dropped them near the
boots. I raised up on my knees and reached to pull first His phone, then His
lighter pouch and tool pocket from His belt. I set them aside and unbuckled
His belt and then pulled it through the loops. I moved forward and worked the
buttons on His work shirt loose, tugging the tails from His pants.
"Sure there's nothing on your mind, sweetheart?" He asked,
pulling me close to kiss me. I took the kiss, hoping to melt some of the anger
that was plaguing me. I shook my head as I pulled back and gave Him a small
smile. I was hoping but unconvinced that I had reassured Him. The kiss had
done little to improve my mood.
He stood up and pulled me up with Him. I removed His work shirt and
waited for Him to remove His glasses so that His undershirt could also be
removed. He did so, and I pulled the shirt over His head. He turned His back
to me and I reached around front to undo the button and then unzip His pants.
He let them drop and stepped out of the pool they had made on the floor. I
bent down and picked them up, turning to retrieve the socks as well. All were
destined for the laundry basket. He reached out and again landed a stinging
blow to my backside. I straightened up in a hurry, rubbing at the spot as I
moved to the bedroom to drop the dirty clothes into the basket.
"Thank you, sweetheart," He said as I moved past Him again and
into the kitchen.
"You're welcome," I replied, picking up the chopping knife and
resuming dinner preparations. I heard Him pull out His Zippo and light a
cigarette. I turned the radio up just a bit and hoped for a decent tune to
come on. I desperately needed something to lighten my mood and get over the
petty annoyances that were mounting up and building a piss-poor attitude. I
knew that if I did not fix the problem soon, it would become His problem, and
I knew exactly what HE would do to rid me of a negative demeanor.
He continued His email perusal as I dropped the potatoes into the water
to boil and began seasoning and breading the chicken for frying. One of my
favorite tunes finally came on the radio and I began to move my feet and hum
along. 'Maybe this will work,' I thought to myself, again hoping to lighten my
mood. I did not like feeling resentful or annoyed by petty issues. I could
usually get over it. The nicotine withdrawals and my hormones were making
everything bigger than life the last two days, and they were making it nigh on
to impossible for me to shake ANYTHING off. It had been that way at the office
as well. And aside from all of THAT, He had been working so hard the last two
weeks, with regular 8 hour shifts, over-time and then working on Barb's
kitchen every other night. I sighed, trying to get into the music.
"Would You like a beer, sweetie?" I asked Him as I moved to
the refrigerator to pull out the butter and milk for mashed potatoes.
"Yes, please and thank you," I heard Him call out. I opened
one for the both of U/us, and took His to Him, lime firmly in place. I set the
bottle down and turned to go back to the kitchen.
"Cassie Lee, are you going to tell me what's got you upset sometime
tonight?" He asked, reaching out to tug me back to Him. I swallowed and
nodded, not looking at Him. I could not even hedge the truth if I looked Him
directly in the eye. He stood up, putting firm fingers beneath my chin. He
urged me to look at Him, giving me that knowing look over the top of His
"Cassie Lee?" He said, His voice brooking no nonsense. I
sighed, and said,
"It's nothing, really. Just a long day and idiots everywhere."
"Including right here? In your own home?" He asked, a small
smile shaping His sexy lips. I shrugged and looked down, not wanting to spoil
O/our time together with petty concerns. He had told me so many times to just
get it out in the open, no matter how trivial I thought it was, but ... I
hated that I could not just shake it off and not let it get to me. I felt it
showed me up as petty in His eyes, regardless of the fact that He
categorically denied that statement. I felt the pressure of His fingers making
me look up at Him again.
"Cassie Lee, if there's something you need to say to me, just spit
it out. If you insist on letting it fester, you're gonna start throwing me
attitude and that's NOT gonna be good. Capisce?"
I nodded, but could not bring myself to whine about these petty little
annoyances. I told myself I could move on and shrug off the peevish details.
He kissed me briefly and I smiled a small smile.
"OK. Just watch the attitude, little girl," He warned.
"You know what that gets you. Don't you, baby?" I nodded again and
turned as He released me. He went back to the PC and I went back to dinner. I
knew very well what that would get me. The last time W/we had this discussion,
it had been patently one-sided and I had been left stinging, sore and
sniffling. I had said some rather disrespectful things to Him, sarcastic and
rude, and He had marched me into the bedroom, and put me in the corner. He had
yanked my skirt up and my panties down, spanked me briefly and smartly with
His hand, and then left me to think about the more severe and intense spanking
that was coming. My disrespectful attitude and my stubborn refusal to
communicate the annoyances that had led to that disrespect had earned me a
good, hard, bare-ass spanking with several of the more painful implements in
It had not been the first time I had thrown that attitude nor had it
been the first time I had refused to tell Him what was on my mind and
upsetting me. There had been other discussions and other spankings. Each time
He had to punish me for the same infraction or offense, the spankings got
longer, more intense and more painful. This issue was no exception. That
thought had crossed my mind, but I had discarded it, sure that I could throw
off the anger and aggravation that was threatening my composure.
I continued with dinner, putting the browned chicken into a dish to be
microwaved and draining the water from the now softened potatoes. I dumped the
potatoes into a bowl, and began to add the butter and the bit of milk. I added
some chopped garlic and salt as well, and set the bowl aside. I popped the
microwave open and after covering the chicken with a paper towel I set the
plate inside and turned the machine on.
A slow, blues tune came on the radio just then and I hummed along,
setting the table. I was swinging my hips to the beat and as I turned to walk
back into the kitchen, He caught me up in His arms and danced me a bit around
the dining area. I smiled up at Him, and He smiled back, leaning in to kiss
me. I took the kiss and felt the ever-present desire begin to swirl in my
blood. He kissed the side of my neck, and the feeling intensified.
"I love my Sunshine," He murmured, and I whispered back that I
loved my Master. "You know I'd do anything for you, don't you,
"Yes, Master," I said, stepping back and looking up into His
sincere blue eyes. "Then I hope you'll share what's up with you tonight,
honey. If you're angry with me, or upset about something I've done, just spit
it out. Got it?" "Yes, Master," I said, stepping further back
and turning to go back to the kitchen. "Thank You, Master," I added
as an after-thought, moving to finish setting the table and getting Him
something more to drink. The microwave told me the chicken would be another 4
minutes and so I had just enough time to mash the potatoes.
"Can I help, baby?" I heard Him call out.
"No, thank You, Master," I replied, hearing Him still tapping
those computer keys. Must have been a load of mail in His in-box. Even
something as trivial as that somehow irked me, I noticed. I let out a long
breath and concentrated on the potatoes, thinking ridiculously in my head that
somehow THIS would show Him! I swallowed the last of my beer quickly and set
the bottle back into the six pack from which it had come.
The microwave beeped just as I finished opening His second beer for the
meal and setting it on the table. I pulled the plate out of the oven and set
it on the counter to cool. I added the salt and pepper to the table along with
butter and a napkin apiece. I put the now cooling chicken onto two separate
plates and set them on the table. I moved the bowl of perfectly mashed
potatoes to the center of the table and added a larger spoon to the bowl.
"Dinner's ready, Master," I told Him, realizing that He was
still either looking at email or surfing the Net. Either way, I fumed inwardly
at having to wait yet again, second to a machine! I shook my head inwardly and
tsk-tsk'd myself into letting go of the attitude about these mundane, petty
grievances. I took a deep breath and felt my muscles relax. "Be there in
a minute, baby. Just got to log out," He told me. I sat back, and took
another deep breath, finally feeling as if the frustration was at its end.
Then I realized that I had not poured myself anything to drink. I had
made a habit of pouring either beer or soda into a wine goblet or frosted mug
rather than drinking out of the bottles at dinner. I got up and moved to the
kitchen, reaching into the refrigerator for a cold soda. As I moved back to
the table, I twisted the cap and the bottle virtually exploded, fizzing out
from the top, over my hands and onto the floor.
"Shit! Godammit!" I shouted, moving quickly back to the
kitchen and tossing the bottle into the sink. "Relax, baby, relax!"
He chided, moving quickly in to help me with the problem. "Are you
"Yes!" I spat out, truly angry now on top of the frustration I
had been feeling all day and most intensely since arriving home. I rinsed my
hands, and pulled a handful of paper towels from the spool on the counter,
tipping that over in the process. I set the spool back into place with a bang!
and was on my knees, blotting the spill and feeling the angry tears begin to
flood my eyes. I bit my tongue in an effort to keep them at bay.
"Please, baby, relax. It's all good," He told me, reaching
down to massage my neck and shoulders. I sat back on my heels and closed my
eyes, allowing His touch to soothe at least the wildest of savage beasts in
me. He took the soaked paper towels from me and tossed them into the
wastebasket. He reached down, taking my hand and urging me to stand back up.
He pulled me into His arms, and held me against Him, hugging me hard.
"Better?" He asked, pulling back to place a soft kiss against
my brow. I nodded, not truly feeling much better, but coping now with the soda
snafu. "Good! Have a seat. Let me get you another pop, my love," he
offered, moving into the kitchen to do just that. Now I really felt terrible,
being so peevish about the stupid things that I was miffed about, and Him
being so sweet. He brought the soda to me, already opened, and poured some
into the glass I had set by my place.
"Smells delicious, baby. Thank you for cooking," He said,
sitting down and reaching over to take my hand, squeezing my fingers tightly.
"You're welcome, Master," I said softly, looking down into my
plate. How could I be mad about ridiculous things that didn't matter when He
was so good to me, and so understanding and sweet?
"Hey! Mashed potatoes! Garlic even! That's my job! What's up with
that?" He asked, taking up the bowl and serving us both. His grin did not
mitigate the annoyance I was still feeling about the things that had been left
undone. Bringing up the potatoes as HIS job just lit the fire again.
"You were busy, Master," I said, still not looking up from my
plate. He set the plate down, and pushed my chin up so that my eyes met His.
His eyes narrowed and then He cocked His head to one side and said,
"I DID ask if I could help, Cassie Lee," He said.
"Yes, Master, You did," I said, lowering my eyes and taking my
bottom lip into my mouth and biting down hard.
"It IS my job, little girl," He stated, looking at me
"Well, that's..." I left off and did not finish the peevish
thought about His not having done anything that was His job at all in the last
twenty-four hours and so I thought the potatoes would be the same scenario.
He knew I was holding something back. "C'mon, now. Spit it out!
This about the garbage?"
"And the dishes," I said. Picking up my napkin and placing it
in my lap.
"Hmm. Now I'm beginning to get the picture," He said, taking a
mouthful of chicken and potatoes and leaning back, chewing leisurely. I took a
bite of chicken and said nothing.
"C'mon. Get it out of your system. I know you're dying to say
something!" He was almost egging me on, daring me to say something
sarcastic or disrespectful. I shook my head, and concentrated on cutting up
"Cassie Lee, tell me what's on your mind, and I mean now!" He
insisted, reaching over to take a firm hold of my left wrist. I swallowed hard
and finally said, my voice small,
"Well, it's just that You haven't seemed to want to do any of the
things that are supposedly YOUR job in the past couple of days. I just assumed
that the potatoes would be the same deal." His chuckle in response
confused me. I chanced a glance up at Him and looked into His deep blue eyes.
He smiled at me, and my confusion increased. He let go of my wrist and sat
back. He took a sip of His beer and stroked His chin methodically.
"I see," was all He said. "Cassie Lee, what have I told
You about telling me what's on your mind?" He asked quietly.
"That when You ask, I need to tell You," I replied, knowing
without knowing where this was going.
He took another bite of dinner and chewed slowly. He leaned back again,
"And is that because I want to know every little thought that goes
on in that sweet, little head of yours?" I shook my head, knowing that
was not the reason.
"Then why, little girl?" He asked, again taking a bite of his
"Because You truly want to know what I'm thinking and if there's
anything wrong." My voice was small, and I swallowed hard again. He
nodded, taking a swig of His beer.
"Tell me why I want to know about that, baby," He asked,
cutting into His second piece of chicken. He did not comment on the fact that
I had not touched my dinner since the first bite, but I knew He had noticed.
"So You can fix the problem," I said, taking a small sip of soda.
"Exactly right. Now, tell me what happens when you don't tell me
what's on your mind, but let it simmer and boil," He said, His voice
taking on an edge I knew all too well. Damn! I had done a piss poor job of
reigning in the attitude. And I had been thinking I was doing so well!
"I start to develop an attitude," I said, my throat so dry and
making it sound like a croak.
"Yes," He drawled, and I licked my lips. "And you've
developed quite the little attitude over my slacking, haven't you, little
girl?" He sat back completely now, wiping His mouth with His napkin and
setting it aside.
"Cassie Lee, I don't want to hear excuses or explanations or lies.
Just 'fess up," He said, His voice now hard as stone.
"Yes, Master," I said, my voice barley a whisper. "But I
did try, Master!"
"Everything but the one, simple way that will ALWAYS prevent this,
Cassie Lee," He admonished, and I bowed my head. It was true. If I had
just told Him what was bothering me...
"What happens when you throw me attitude, miss?" He asked, His
voice again hard.
"You punish me, Master," I said, biting back the tears. I HAD
tried to nip it in the bud.
"Right again. Go to your room, miss," He ordered. I looked up,
hoping to somehow way-lay the inevitable. He was already rising and taking up
His plate. I swallowed hard and stood up, moving to the bedroom. I knew what
was expected, and I knew that this was going to be a long, hard spanking. I
had yet to learn this lesson...
Story continue in the members area:
get IMMEDIATE ACCESS here!
© Cassandra Selmon
This copyright is fully privately held. Direct all inquiries for
reprint to email@example.com